


Nestled

by zelda_addict



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mpreg, Multi, Nesting Dean, Oblivious Sam Winchester, Off-screen Relationship(s), Pregnant Dean, Schmoop, Season/Series 08, stealing clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 15:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4881466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelda_addict/pseuds/zelda_addict
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A claim from spn_masquerade, Round 3.</p>
<p>Original Prompt:<br/>"When Sam and Dean first move into the bunker Sam (I think) says something about how Dean is nesting. It turns out that is more true than he realized. Dean is pregnant and beginning to nest in preparation for the baby/babies. Up to the author who the father is, I'm also good with ot3 relationships.</p>
<p>Bonus points for clothes stealing."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nestled

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love my Purgatory boys, and I don't think I've written this threesome before. (Not that there's any description of what went on between them--it's all implied.)

When Dean had told him, “I’m nesting,” Sam had brushed it off and placed his focus on the exceptionally delicious hamburger Dean had made for him.

After all, they were always making jokes about whenever Dean did something stereotypical of a male carrier, just like Dean always poked fun at Sam’s “college boy” book smarts. It would have been obvious if Dean were really nesting because he was pregnant, right? Surely he would have said something more directly.

Sometimes Sam could get so caught up in other things, like tablets and prophets and trials and cool old bunkers full of research materials, that he actually forgot how Dean was practically allergic to discussing emotional things. In retrospect, the nesting comment was the Dean equivalent of a formal baby announcement, handmade with scrapbooking supplies and mailed first class. Sam was a little embarrassed it took him so long to draw the right conclusion.

To be fair, most of the signs were subtle. Dean started wearing sweatpants and that horrendous old robe he’d found who knew where most of the time, and he occasionally made remarks about needing to get the pants from his best suit let out, but that could be due to Dean’s eating habits finally catching up to him.

He started to complain about strong smells, but he’d been on such a frantic cleaning kick with the common areas of the bunker that Sam had just figured all the cleaning products were starting to get to him.

Every once in a while, Dean got really strange, specific cravings, but Sam had made them stop for frozen yogurt at a chain they used to go to as kids one time just because they were in an area that had one, so who was he to point fingers?

It was the literal nesting that finally made Sam realize the actual state of affairs.

Sam didn’t usually go into Dean’s room. They finally had their own spaces, and that was awesome, so Sam was willing to respect his privacy. Well, within reason.

Sam didn’t have very many favorite pieces of clothing, since most things hunters wore were eventually doomed to be coated in blood, ectoplasm, grave dirt, and even worse things, so when he did have favorites, it was pretty obvious when they went missing.

Sam knew for a fact that his favorite old hoodie from Stanford had been folded and placed in his second dresser drawer after the last time he had done laundry. They hadn’t had a case in several weeks, so he couldn’t have lost it on the road. There was only one other person living in the bunker.

“Dean,” he asked as he pushed open the door to his brother’s room, “have you seen my...” he trailed off as his jaw dropped. Dean’s bed was covered in a mass of soft blankets and random clothing articles. Sam saw several more of the “dead guy” robes, an old flannel he was fairly certain had belonged to their dad, a few familiar blue neckties, and some shirts he knew were his own.

“Seen what now?” Dean asked groggily, head poking out of the cozy nest.

“My Stanford hoodie?” Sam managed.

Dean smiled sheepishly. “Do you really need it ‘cause I can probably find it, but I may have worn it a couple times, and I really kind of like how it feels on my skin.”

“I can’t believe it,” Sam muttered under his breath. He turned around and walked back out, stumbling to the library and falling into a chair.

Dean followed him, expression worried, and in nothing but a tee-shirt and his boxer briefs, Dean was quite obviously pregnant. How had Sam not noticed the belly? How had he not connected Dean mentioning “appointments” as anything other than exactly what it sounded like?

“You okay?” Dean asked warily. One of his hands rested protectively over his expanding middle. “I’m sorry. I kind of thought you knew?”

“How long have _you_ known?” Sam asked, trying to gauge how far along the pregnancy was by size alone.

“I’ve known for a couple of months now, but I think I was just in denial for a while before that,” Dean admitted.

“Who’s the other father?” It didn’t really matter, Sam was mostly just curious, but Dean bit his lower lip and looked away. “Do you even know?” That came out badly, and Sam winced as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

“It’s not like I sleep with anything that moves, okay!” Dean suddenly blurted defensively.

“I never said you did,” Sam soothed.

“I’ve got it narrowed down to two,” Dean continued, somewhat more calmly, “but for all I know, it could be both.” At Sam’s confused expression, Dean gestured at his belly. “Fraternal twins. Surprise?”

“Wow.” Again, not the best thing to say, but Sam couldn’t help it. He mentally ran through the last several months in his mind. Dean hadn’t really gone out much, and Sam couldn’t remember any male hook-ups. Unless of course they had happened while they weren’t speaking. Sam had a sinking feeling he knew who one of the candidates was.

Dean must have seen his expression change because he squared his shoulders and tensed his jaw, defensive again. “I know you hate Benny on principle, but I’m not gonna put up with you judging me about this.”

Sam took a deep breath and held up his hands. “Relax. I’ll try to behave. He’s not going to be coming around here all the time though, is he?”

Dean shook his head sadly. “He doesn’t even know, and I’m not sure I’ll ever tell him.”

Sam knew he should leave well enough alone, but the curiosity was killing him. “You said two?”

Dean gave him a pointed look. “Who do you think?” Sam remembered the ties in the clothing nest.

“Really?”

“Shut up.”

The room fell into an awkward silence. It was pretty obvious that Dean had made up his mind, so Sam really only had one more burning question.

“So, how long do we have to baby-proof this place?”

***

It turned out that there was really no amount of time that would have been enough to be truly ready for the arrival of two more Winchesters, but they did manage to convert a room next to Dean’s into a nursery, buy mass quantities of diapers, and install child latches on the cabinets in the kitchen before Dean went into labor right in the middle of digging up a grave outside of Fairfax, Virginia, 1200 miles away from his doctor.

“I told you we should have just let this go until after you had your kids,” Sam taunted as he increased his pace with the shovel.

“Shut up. Labor takes a long time, right? We have time to finish up here, if you put your back into it.”

They did have time to finish up there. They even almost had time to make it back to the bunker before the contractions were seriously close together, having to stop at a hospital in, ironically enough, Lawrence.

“Just our luck, I guess,” Dean declared with a roll of his eyes.

Bobby John and Mary-Jo Ellen Winchester were born twenty minutes apart. The little boy had a full head of curly, dark hair, but his sister had the barest dusting of blonde fuzz. Dean was exhausted but the happiest Sam had seen him in a long time.

Sam was happy too, and if he’d done a bit of nesting on his own while they painted the nursery and decided where to strategically set up baby gates in the bunker, well, that was okay.


End file.
